Winner of the Rockower Award, the highest honor in Jewish journalism, this blog contains random musings of a journalist, father, husband, son, friend, poodle-owner, Red Sox fan and occasionally-ranting rabbi, taken from Shabbat-O-Grams, columns, speeches, letters, sermons and thin air. "On One Foot," the column, appears regularly in the New York Jewish Week, as well as a blog for the "Times of Israel."

Thursday, March 19, 2015

The Rarest Jewish Trifecta

Amidst all the hubbub of the Israeli elections, it’s
barely been noticed that this weekend we will experience the rarest of Jewish
seasonal trifectas: Rosh Hodesh Nisan, Shabbat Hahodesh and
the 1st day of spring will coincide.

In the 21st century, Rosh Hodesh Nisan has come out on
Shabbat Hahodesh three times: in 2001, 2005, and 2008. Future occurrences in
the 21st century will take place in 2021, 2025, 2045, 2048, 2052, 2072, 2075,
2079, and 2099. Whenever that happens, we read from three Torah scrolls,
another rarity, which we’ll do this week.

But how often does that take place on the date of the
vernal equinox? Just this year and in 2020. That’s it. Twice in a
century.

In a year of bountiful precipitation in Israel and here
in this corner of the Diaspora, with the flowers beginning to proclaim the
reemergence of life with incredible color, we can’t allow this rare trifecta to
pass unnoticed. As we ruminate over how wrong the exit polls were and the
fallibilities of human calculation, we can’t allow ourselves to miss this prime
example of nature’s spectacular synchronicity.

In Pirke Avot,
Rabbi Eleazar Chisma,
himself an astronomer, called the calculation of equinoxes “the side-dish of
wisdom,” of far less significance than actual Torah law. But at a time when so
much is uncertain in the political world, we need to turn to the natural cycles
of our planet, the sun, moon and stars to find some comfort and unity in their
consistency – and to treasure this fragile ecological balance.

So this Shabbat, let’s take a moment to set aside our
differences, share a deep sense of wonder as to the mystery of natural
regeneration and rebirth and the never-ending promise of spring. Together
we should stop whatever we’re doing, whether at synagogue, at the mall or at
the beach, and look up in amazement toward the sky – once the snow stops
falling, that is.